Agents of K.I.C.K - Reloaded IC

[whiskytangofoxt]

DISCLAIMER: This game will contain violence, bad language, drug references, content of a sexual nature and bad puns.

Any similarities to any persons, living or dead, is unintentional. Except when it is intentional.

Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot.
BY ORDER OF THE AUTHOR, per G.G., Chief of Ordinance.

It's a bright, clammy summer morning at K.I.C.K. Headquarters, a non-descript glass-and-chrome skyscraper much like any other in The City.

K.I.C.K. was first developed as a government subsidiary during World War II, when Hitler first brought the supernatural to the battlefield. While the images of power-armoured SS soldiers and anti-Semitic werewolves were hidden from the public, the government knew they needed some defence against such ultra-mundane threats to their soil. Thus, K.I.C.K. was born, those first few souls single-handedly taking out the Nazi threat.

60 years on, K.I.C.K. has gone private-sector - they are paid vast amounts of money by various parties to investigate and beat up paranormal threats to the US.

You are the latest intake.

You are waiting in a high-fashion modern waiting room. The walls are a soothing plain colour, somewhere between yellow and creme. Adorning them are various PoMo art pieces that took 5 minutes to do, yet are worth tens of thousands of dollars.

You sit in the various couches, seats and assorted resting places, waiting to be called in.

Have you met before? Worked for K.I.C.K. previously, or is this your first mission? What are you doing while you wait?

[SuperCracker]

The resident killing machine, Fred Broll, was seated on one of the couches, wiping the last traces of blood off of his cheek. On the way over, some tentacled creature tried to attack him from a manhole and he had to eviscerate it. It was the second time this week. He didn't even bother to talk about that kind of thing anymore, it was so commonplace.

Broll had been a part of K.I.C.K. since he was 16, back in 2000. He'd been a steady employee ever since; mostly because he loves his job. He really loves his job. Anyone working for K.I.C.K. from around that point would know him, or at least know of him.

He'd heard scuttlebutt that they were assembling a new team. It was always fun to get set up with a bunch of other freaks (freaks are his kind of people).

[Thieves]

His chin protruded and making those groovin' back-and-forth moves, his eyes slowly scannin' the room, his ears bombarded with rhythmic volleys of double bass-drum kickin', channeled from the Unholy Gods of the Underworld by the earphones of his old, 90's-spirited DIY walkman, Django sits. And hell dam', he sits fine! There's some gravity of his own in this 7'5" 240-pound body!

The top of his head still lets a thin streak of smoke, because, well, roadside mines aren't something you can just Schwarzkopf off. At least he changed the pants, and now sits (damn fine he sits!) in camo trouser shorts and similar jacket, with the white skull on a black Danzig T-shirt underneath. A smirk runs through his face, recalling he couldn't chase the Kraken up on the way here and had to let it run to the sewers. Just now, a tiny, shy reflex of sympathy in his mind hoped no one got hurt too seriously 'cause of that.

Shaking off his daydreaming and the present tense, Django looked around. Some faces, quite familiar, not too much, though. K.I.C.K.'s teamwork, but that ain't like you're sitting around a table, discussin', is it, now? He had been working there just a year, but got to know what the deal's about, and seeing all the pitiful crap walking the streets with no way out, felt he'd made the right decision to join.

Or that he had the 'right luck' to mix up the addresses and deliver pizza to the HQ. Needless to say, ten times big Extra Deluxe did earn him some entry and welcome! And now, here, it seems he's about to be deliverin' some pure axe-spiced stomach-kickdown once again.

[josh13905]

Sitting alone one a couch, seeming to doze is Jonathan Ryan, he'd been with the agency for 8 years now, and had solved many problems since his start. He looked normal, but he was far from. He had seen many things, things that hadn't happened. He'd seen countless VIP assassinations, none come to pass, several doomsday's, a few nuclear warheads, and he'd seen himself die more times than he should. Around here things like that weren't strange, around here the 'Freaks' were the regulars. That was one of the reasons he was here, for excitement, and he figured if he wasn't here, they'd recruit him sooner or later.

Perhaps he really was sleeping, but it was unlikely it was more likely he was getting to know the others in the room. Seeing futures that wouldn't come.

But he was calm. He was unshakable, and virtually unsurprisable.

[SuperCracker]

The top of his head still lets a thin streak of smoke, because, well, roadside mines aren't something you can just Schwarzkopf off.

Seeing this caused Broll to grin and give him a nod. Props. He'd heard of this guy (after all, he did bring up ten big Extra Deluxe pizzas).

"Looks like I ain't the only one with a crazy commute."

Broll said before tossing the bloody paper towel.

"Want to get a pool going to bet on what we're fightin' today?"

He said to the rest of the room. He pointed at Jonathan.

"Except you! You cheat, man."

[josh13905]

JR smiles and opens his eyes to look Broll.

"Yeah games, against other people that know what I can do aren't really my thing. But I'm great at poker, and horse-racing."

From his pocket he pulls out a worn deck of cards, and begins shuffling absently.

"I don't know yet you know, but I can tell you we probably won't be fighting anything in the next couple minutes."

[Thieves]

"Thanks, but nah," said Django and tossed the bloodstained towel into an adjacent bin. "Now that it's smokin', like, I'd at least get some steam out of it, ain't I, man," he laughed, stood up and came up to JR.

"Cards, eh? In cards you can't pray for snake eyes, man. You, you'd have me runnin' with just my boxers on if I played with ya," he extended his hand and started picking cards from the top of the deck, but looking somewhere above, at the wall. "What, I know that, I'd get what? An ace of base, maybe a jack? Johnson, huh? And you'd end up with an ace of spades, a queen, or maybe it be a king, some killer joker, huh?" Django just barely glanced at the cards he pulled, knowing what he's going to see there. Yeah. Some people got the 'suttle' talents, eh?

[SuperCracker]

"Dude, I don't know what card game you're describing, but it sounds awesome."

He said with a grin to Django and JR.

"Though, come to think of it, I did run into a killer Joker before. It's surprising how hard he could kick in that floppy red shoe."

He said with a thoughtful nod.

[Thieves]

Django froze, and in a pose that would just require him a burning cigarette, a bent cowboy hat and a long black coat, he said:
"That ain't a game, man. It's a way of life."

And easing up and walking back to his place on the waiting sofa, he added:
"And yeah, these jokers (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s1oyfG6t2ew) can be a kick to the ass."

[Critical]

Sitting in there with his rocket launcher near him and with some heavy-armored lower body, but not much for the upper one, Fredderick Cane, the physics-using rocket warrior was smoking a cigar now. Basically, cane's a blockhead looking like he had an enormous amount of physical workout done, having the classic army-type shave and dressed into something resembling a soldier's uniform. He had been working for K.I.C.K. for quite some time now, since he was 18 years old and he was 29 now - a veteran, that is. Cane took inhaled some smoke in his mouth tasting it, and exhaled it, laughing at the conversation going on, going closer to the man with cards and sitting in front of him.

"Poker's easy, you just have to wait for good cards." - he says, smiling. - "Lets play."

[Eurus]

Grace was never inconspicuous; a perky blonde looking for all the world like a teenager usually wasn't, not when surrounded by K.I.C.K. agents. But she could at least have changed out of the cheerleading uniform. Instead she flounces around the room in a miniskirt, industriously texting on her phone.

She was relatively new to the organization, having only attempted a scant few missions since finishing training. But news like that gets around. Almost everyone had run into Grace cartwheeling through the training room, or petitioning the organization's director for "casual Fridays."

Finally snapping the tiny phone shut, Grace nimbly swings around a chair and pulls up a seat by the cards. "Poker, huh? How do you play? Is it hard?"

[josh13905]

JR sits smiling with shuffling the deck of cards without looking at the other two people next to him.

"I don't think you understand. I can't play games, let me show you."

Jonathan blinks, and in that split second he saw what would have happened if he had flipped the cards up and then dealt them, effectively knowing what everyone held. Then he was back to reality and dealing the cards to everyone.
Before he or the other players had picked up their cards:

"Cane wins, with a full house, three 4's and two 8's, Grave has a pair of Jack's, and I have a Queen high."

He was right, he was always right, so he like games much. Strange he would carry a deck of cards.

"You guys can play though, and I'll try and keep my mouth shut, if you'd like."

[SuperCracker]

Broll sat back, watching people talk about playing cards with JR. He grinned and shook his head. He responded to Grace.

"It's hard when you play with that guy. You know, I've seen you around. I'm definitely down for the casual Friday bit. Sometimes you want to be comfortable when you're decapitating hydras."

[Eurus]

Grace nods emphatically. "I totally know, right? Like on my last mission, they totally wouldn't let me wear my new high heels! Said they 'weren't regulation,' whatever that means. They were a brand new pair and everything, totally went with my outfit that day, I was so ticked. And it's way harder to drive a tennis shoe through a Nazi's neck. Hopefully they go easier on you once you're not a pleeb anymore, right?"

As she talks, she idly looks at the still face-down cards. "Wow, you're good at this. Are you, like, a circus magician or something?"

[Malfunctioned]

"No Grace. Not a magician." A figure behind her sighed exasperatedly. He brushed his lank brown fringe out of face only for it to fall back almost instantly. He wasn't a tall man by any means, barely scraping 5'6'', in fact he wasn't imposing in any sort of manner. He was wearing a khaki military jacket, a green t-shirt that would of said something slightly ironic if the print hadn't almost completely faded, a pair of old ripped jeans and black combat boots completed his haphazard look. He pulled out a pair of round wire frame glasses and, after briefly breathing on them and wiping them on his t-shirt, put them on.
"Possibly some form of paranormal precognition, science is ruled out as you do not have the.....traits of my 'kind', Mr Ryan I presume? He outstretched his hand to JR.

[SuperCracker]

And it's way harder to drive a tennis shoe through a Nazi's neck. Hopefully they go easier on you once you're not a pleeb anymore, right?"

Broll nodded and scratched his chin for a moment.

"You know, I did kick a guy's head off one time while wearing sneakers. Does that count as going through his neck? Anyway, just hang in there, you'll be fine."

He looked up to Cane. Broll was pretty sure Elton John wrote a song about him. He gave him a head nod, that masculine greeting.

We had the cheerleader, the Lumberjack, the Rocket-man, the Mad-Scientist, the Card Shark, and yours truly. Looked like this mission was going to be a good one, if they're packing all these guys together.

[Critical]

Cane switched the cigar to the other side of his mouth with his lips, exhaling another puff of smoke. "Impressive, pretty boy. You've ruined my great hand, though." - Cane says, putting the cards away and puffing the cigar again. He then turned to the blonde.

"Wear armored boots. Or soldier boots. They aren't pretty, but you'll do just fine." - he said, knocking on his lower body armor. - "Gotta keep em safe."

He then returned a glance to Broll. What the hell did this guy want? Cane basically asked that with the expression on his face.


OOC: What Elton John's song? xD

[SuperCracker]

OOC: "Rocket Man"

He spoke up to Cane, in an attempt to alleviate the confusion.

"What up, dude? That armor looks pretty bad-ass."

See? Just being friendly.

[whiskytangofoxt]

Miss Mae sits in the corner, impassionately investigating her nails and filing them to within a milimetre of accepted length.

Before she can fire off some witty remark, you are asked to take your seats in the meeting room next door.

As you enter the room, there is a large rounded table. A voice clicks over a small intercom on the table, and asks you to take a seat.

*If everyone is ready, we will begin.*

From an unseen projector, an image springs onto the wall, showing a large, stepped building and a corprate logo - a stylised skull.

"Mayincatek Inc. are a new face on the technologcal scene. However, we have very little idea what they actually do. Records show that, out of 1300 applicants, 200 have found employment in the company. Another 70 have since been found dead in highly ritualised murders.

Each victim has been found skinned, hearts and tongues removed, and hung upside down from the roof. This company is the only link between the victims."

Various crime scene photos support the claim.

"You have each been granted a place in one of the interview processes. Use the time to investigate the offices, and see if you can find any leads about the murders.

You have approximately 2 hours before your interview. Use them well.

Any questions?"

What would you like to do?

[SuperCracker]

Mayincatek Inc. are a new face on the technologcal scene. However, we have very little idea what they actually do. Records show that, out of 1300 applicants, 200 have found employment in the company. Another 70 have since been found dead in highly ritualised murders.

"Man, I heard it was a rough economy, but that's excessive."

He looked through the crime scene photos. Man, this kind of evil crap really got his blood boiling.

"Alright. So, when we get in and gather intel, how long do you want us to wait before we take the next step. . . or can we just start cleaning house right then?"

He grinned a wild grin.

[whiskytangofoxt]

Alright. So, when we get in and gather intel, how long do you want us to wait before we take the next step. . . or can we just start cleaning house right then?

"You should wait and collect solid evidence that the company is behind these murders, and take appropriate action. At least, as appropriate as you can manage..."

[SuperCracker]

"Alright, alright. Guess I'll go get ready for my interview."

Broll then (after the meeting is adjurned) gets a suit for the interview, prints up a fake resume that looks incredible, and gets a long canvass tube to put in bogus rolled up pie charts and to hide his sword inside of it.

[Critical]

Cane laughed at the remark about bad-ass armor, and nodded afterwards. He then listened to the briefing.

"Why would a company kill it's own employees? My bet it's a rival company."

[Eurus]

Grace gasps at the description of the murders, looking horrified. "That's, like, totally not okay! Cubicle nerds are people too, they can't just kill them like that!"

She seems to accept without question that it's the company itself responsible for the murders.

[Thieves]

"Mayincawhat?", grunted Django, "Like Manson & Family, I say!" He blinked at the tone of his voice. Something changed in the last several minutes, but he couldn't put a finger on it.

"Interviews? You gotta be kiddin'. I can do warehouse stuff. Yeah." He looked around, not really expecting anyone and their crippled dog to be astonished at his qualifications, but still. "Yeah. I mean, I'm getting into a suit? I can program VCRs. Or drive a fork-lifter. But I ain't late-night crawlin' in ventilation ducts doin' Tom Cruise Impossible! ... He's a little wackhead."

"But uh, yeah. Who's doing my CV?" To anyone from his parts that would pass with a "*gasp*!" from a thousand throats and a tumbleweed rolling by. One thing you'd be expected to be able to do, coming from the East E'ur, would be writing CVs.

[Malfunctioned]

"I will volunteer to for an interview. I'm sure I can dumb my intellect enough so that they will not suspect me of being anything more than I seem. It should be a piece of cake."

[josh13905]

Jonathan smiles, getting a job was one of the things that was easy for him, he always knew all the right answers, and could see how to respond to all the questions for the best performance. "Yeah this should be a real walk in the park"

It was the investigating that would be more difficult.

[whiskytangofoxt]

"Why would a company kill it's own employees? My bet it's a rival company."

"These were not employees - these were rejected applicants. Remember and do well in your interviews, people."


"But uh, yeah. Who's doing my CV?"

"Those of you not comfortable writing your own Curricula Vitae will have them provided for you. See Anna at the Armory for your normal kit and identities."

[SuperCracker]

OOC: Correction to earlier post.

When Fred is picking up his props, he sees Anna for the kit.

He tells her: "Let's make this disguise a little Gordon Gecko. These big money types appreciate that kind of thing, right? Also, make the graphs overly complicated."

He planned to mask his utter lack of business knowledge with total bullcrap, keep them confused, and make it sound like he was a future corporate star. That's pretty much how they did it in the 80s.

[Critical]

"These were not employees - these were rejected applicants. Remember and do well in your interviews, people."
"That's even stranger... So, by an interview you mean "go and apply to the job over there"? Every dog in this town knows who I am!" - he says, turning to Anna.

[whiskytangofoxt]

Anna is a young (like late-teens young) woman, very attractive, who works the reception desk of the Armoury. She eyes Cane up and down, deep in thought.

Uuuuhhh... can you take the pants-armor off? I mean, it would be way easier if it was collapsable... also, well, you need a disguise? We have wigs, fake facial hair, we even have those SynthSkin masks left from when Denny the WarDroid was with us... the Accounting department still miss him dearly.

[josh13905]

"Would it be better for one of us to not get hired, and then set a trap for whatever is going after these people?"

[whiskytangofoxt]

"I will repeat, this is intended as a fact-finding mission, the results of which will dictate our course of action."

The tone of the person on the com changes slightly.

"As a matter of protocol, we would like to ask Mr Ryan to do a small reading for us, gain a general colour of the outcome of the mission?"

[josh13905]

"For starters, this thing is further into the future than what I can access dependably, because so many minute decisions will be made and affect the outcome of the mission, I might only get a vague few glimpses of only the most important of events, but I will try."

Jonathan closes his eyes and doesn't speak for a bit...

[Critical]

"I am not taking these pants off unless I'm going to sleep with someone, girl!" - Cane says, taking an inhale of his cigar, and then adds jokingly when exhaling the smoke, smiling: "Unless you're up for it."

[SuperCracker]

Broll nods at Anna.

"Yeah. War Droid in Accounting was a hell of a guy--thing. Oh, and on top of the snazzy suit, give me some kind of evil goatee. I can dramatically rip it off when it comes time to kick ass."

Nice reference.

[Eurus]

Grace follows Cane to Anna, and whines. "I don't have to wear a pantsuit, do I?"

[whiskytangofoxt]

Jonathan closes his eyes and doesn't speak for a bit...

You get flashes of...
A man, with heavy, dark features, smiling broadly and shaking your hand...
An obsidian blade, gripped tightly in your hand...
The interview (you can see everyone, must be a group interview) going bad...
Feathers and fire and blood...
An... explosion? A real big one.


"Unless you're up for it."

Anna does not look impressed.
"Uuh, tell you what! I've had a great idea... maybe, if you like, take your head out your ass? No-one would recognise you then! Take your sh*t and go."

She motions to the side table, where your folio sits waiting for you.

Wait, what did I reference?

[Critical]

Cane laughs out loud, getting his folio, while thinking for whom he could apply with his armor-pants on. "Relax. Just kidding."

[whiskytangofoxt]

Anna tilts her head, eyes tightening slightly with concentration. You feel something pinch at your temples.
"Try construction, they'll take you with them on. And no, unfortunately, you weren't kidding."

Moral of the story - stop flirting with telepaths.

[Eurus]

Grace grabs her own folio, glancing curiously through it. "Yeah, construction guys are weird. Nice, though. They're always complimenting me."

[whiskytangofoxt]

Once again, Anna looks unimpressed.

"Look, your cars awaits you down in the parking lot. Once you're ready, go down."

She sighs heavily, and returns to her notes.

[SuperCracker]

"Uh, Grace... when they do that-- ah forget it."

Once Broll was Gecko-fied (sleek black suit, red tie), he took his sword-holding tube and went downstairs to pick out one of the cars.

Thought you were referencing this: http://www.nuklearpower.com/2009/03/28/warbot_001/

[Eurus]

While she still refused a pantsuit, Grace eventually (reluctantly) changed into a skirt suit that at least covered her up, and hopped down into the "cutest" car she could find.

[Malfunctioned]

"Anna, my 'vehicle of choice' wouldn't happen to have been moved down there recently by any chance?" He turns to Grace.
"Are you sure you can drive? I would of thought that so many bright lights and moving objects would of distracted you."

I'm hoping that we're still counting the X.T.R.E.M.E Machine as being in the game.

[Thieves]

"Accountings? Sounds cool. It's like, talking of the UFOs you saw, right?"

Anna blinked repeatedly at Django with a little sad frown on her face as he put the CV and a compactible fireman's axe into the suitcase. As weird as he looked normally, he did actually have that something when stuffed into a gray suit... with a camo tie.

"Better that than sitting down in the books."

"I'll walk. Everyone's getting a ride, I'll go undercover."

He looked at the map.

"Or yeah, I'll just drive myself up a corner away from there."

Urr. Actually, is that company's building downtown or somewhere more exotic?

[josh13905]

JR opens his eyes, unfazed by what he saw, "Best to get the firemen on stand-by, the interview doesn't go well, but someone important looked happy."

JR gets his own clothes and goes to meet the others.

[Critical]

Cane doesn't even go to change his clothes. "...I'll be waiting in the car." - he says in explanation.

[Eurus]

"Oh, I always come out just fine," she shrugs cheerfully, but hesitates. "...Although, I totally don't want them docking my pay for another car. And since you're, like, offering..."

Ignoring the fact that Arnold technically hadn't offered, at least not yet, Grace grabs shotgun in his vehicle.

[SuperCracker]

The sports car Broll picked roared to life as he started it up. A big blue beauty it was. He slammed the gas and screeched out of the garage, metal blaring out of his open windows. It was all part of the pre-mission pump up ritual.

[Malfunctioned]

"If anybody needs a lif......" Arnold looks around for a moment. "...Grace, you're already in there, aren't you?" Not waiting for a reply he takes the keycard out of his pocket and jumps into the drivers seat of the X.T.R.E.M.E Machine, a small bus sized vehicle of his own creation. A few button press and lever pulls withdraws most of the excessive detail (decals, lights, S.A.M launchers, stuff like that) and it now appears to simply be a state-of-the-art minivan, just a little on the large side.
"You do know I was planning on taking the monowheel, right? Also, please resist the temptation to press the buttons....again. It took the clean-up crew a week to clear Agent Simmons off of the ceiling last time."
He presses a small green button and the High-Voltage Dual-Core Compression Accelerator flared into life. It also started the engine.

[Eurus]

"But if you took the monowheel, there'd be no room for me," Grace explains as if this should be obvious. "And it's not my fault that the eject button is right next to the radio..."

[Malfunctioned]

"The eject button is also clearly labelled and surrounded by glass." He paused for a second.
"My deathbus, my music."

[josh13905]

Jonathan picks up a nice normal inconspicuous 5-seater car, and pulls out onto the road, beginning to follow the others to the interviews. Wasn't everyday he got to go watch an explosion he knew was coming, oh wait, yeah it was pretty much a daily thing now. If they can have some sort of radio communication channel thingy then he says.

"Tonight's supposed to end with a bang, so everyone stay on your toes, and remember stop drop and roll, if on fire."

[SuperCracker]

"Tonight's supposed to end with a bang, so everyone stay on your toes, and remember stop drop and roll, if on fire."

Broll laughed, then spoke through the radio (with blaring background music).

"I could've told you that, brother. What else did you see back there?"

[Eurus]

"Simmons was bothering me," she admits, attempting to look innocent. "And fine, pick whatever you want."

"...As long as you want to listen to Ke$ha."

[whiskytangofoxt]

Are you all ready to go?

If so...

You enter your cars and begin driving. Soon enough, you come up to the building - it's very impressive. Built from sandstone, and designed to look to all the world like a ziggurat in the middle of The City, Mayincetek Headquarters sits in front of you like some ancient monolith. Then you spot the aerials, automatic windows, and sattelite dishes protruding from the roof. A steady stream of men and women in smart buisness dress seem to be lingering around the entrance area, contriving to look as busy as possible. Your cars pull up outside, and park at various points around the car park.

What would you like to do?

[SuperCracker]

Broll's car comes screeching to a halt in the parking lot. Broll gets out, now dressed for success, a bluetooth set in his ear. With swagger in his step, he walks towards the entrance, passing the business-people milling about. He shouts, in the most corporate exec voice he can muster, ""Look! We've got them by the balls in this deal. I don't care what they say. No less than 10 mil, you got it? Clean them out."

He paused and took a deep breath. "I love the smell of rampant capitalism in the morning!"

[Critical]

Cane views Broll sceptically. "Yeah... That's totally going to work... Alright, go do it, I'll guard the car. I can't go to an interview with armor-pants now, can I?" - Fredderick said, getting himself more comfortable in his seat.

[Thieves]

SuperCracker, you live up to your name, you crack me up super time! :smallbiggrin: rampant capitalism win

"Arnold? Lift? Mind? No? Coo." Django hopped in the back of the minivan. He stowed in the back... couches. Well, seat would be, I guess, a bit too little. Hearing Grace, he just spat:
"Cash-a? Now what the?"

But she was cute. Django sat in the back, interchangeably humming "Highway to hell" and "Hot for teacher" (now wtf?) and eyeing the girl at times.

When they pulled up to the parking lot, Django slapped himself in the forehead.

"Hey, guys. I don't know 'bout your pre-K.I.C.Kin' routines, but... anyone's up for a puff off a little magical pipe I got? Hell, I know I am."

[Malfunctioned]

"Chemicals cloud the mind and with one such as mine I cannot risk any degradation."

Arnold places a thin plastic rod into a special pocket in the inside of his sleeve and picks up what appears to be a normal briefcase. Closer inspection reveals three small buttons on the handle.


(For FTW)
If it's alright with you I came up with this little gadget. The first button ejects Arnold's old Sun Gun from a hidden slot in the briefcase. The second button activates a tracking beacon and the third, in true K.I.C.K fashion, turns the briefcase into a bomb. Does that sound okay?

"How do I look?" He asks, not expecting a sincere response, especially since he hadn't altered his appearance since the meeting beforehand.

[SuperCracker]

It is totally going to work! Broll made his way towards the doors, saying to anyone who got in his way. "Watch where you're going. Don't you know who I am?"

Of course... they didn't, but that might make them feel like they should know, which, embarrassed, might make them fake like they know. A classic trick!

[Thieves]

"Huh. Whatever you say, bro. But I say, there's the K.I.C.K. in me, and the second K.I.C.K I can get from some-little-where else. Like my brother in the South said, 'your trusts in whisky and Black Sabbath', and that thing here. Grace?"

[Eurus]

"Thanks for the offer, but that stuff doesn't work on me anymore." She looks somewhat saddened, as she mentions this.

"You look fine, Arnie. Very, like, professional. I could totally see you working nine to five in a cubicle."

Grace lets herself out of the van, and straightens her outfit. She still had a purse rather than a briefcase, and it was rather colorful for a "professional," but at least it didn't have her initials monogrammed on it in rhinestones.

[whiskytangofoxt]

As you approach, you spy the receptionist, a young man with sandy blonde hair and a cute smile. His face makes you remember how much of a **** Anna back at HQ is.

"Ah, you'll be the newest recruits. Mr Sky wil see you in a few minutes, please take a seat just outside meeting room two, just over on the far side."

He flashes another smile, and you head across to the seats, where whoever got there before you sits.

[SuperCracker]

"Newest recruit? No. Newest Cash Cow? Yes! I'll make your stock prices climb so high they'll see God and tell him to get out, because this company just bought heaven and has decided to tear it down and put up high-price condominiums, complete with a gym and a tasteful shopping center." He said all in one breath. He then strode in and took a seat.

[josh13905]

Jonathan strolled casually beside everyone, and thought about what he had seen earlier. As he heard the things Broll was saying he began to understand why the interview would end in fireworks. Actually he was beginning to see why almost anything Broll involved ended in fireworks.

He nods to the receptionist, and continues to wait in room two hopefully with the others. Once there he pulls out his faithful deck of cards, and shuffles absently.

[Thieves]

Django strolled casually as well. It was just a different fashion of "casually".

The neons in the reception room were beautiful. The suitcase in his hand was so light he could swear it pulled his hand upwards.

The potted plants were beautiful.

Django walked into the waiting room, closed the door behind him and stared blissfully at the wall. Then, he got out of the toilet cabin, washed his hands with water WHICH WAS SO NICELY WARM and dried them with towels THAT WERE LIKE LAVENDER, and out of the restroom. He sat there and looked at someone from the personnel passing. Did he have a- nah, who would wear a sombrero here? Had funny hair, though. Like... I mean, they were... SO... damn they were hilarious! They were, like, oh GOD, Oh Stop, Stop, Please stoooop! Wohohohohoho!

He looked up, wiping off tears off his beard; then he recalled a dude WITH METAL PANTS.

"Bahaha... a-hahaha!... ahaha!..."

Yeah, some time before it wears off. Good this mixture at least gives you spider-sense. Like, when you're a, you know, "a SPIIIIDER, maaan?" WOHOHOHO! Oh, Silent Bob, please, stop!

[whiskytangofoxt]

As you wait in the room, you are surprised to find a man walk from the wall side, presumably from some dark corner where no-one could see him.

The man is broad shouldered, with a slight smile on his heavy, dark-featured face. Identifying his racial background would be quite hard - he seems to be a perfectly generic man.

"Good morning," he rumbles, with a voice like velvet-wrapped chocolate making hot sweaty monkey love to your aural canal, "I am Flint Sky, and hopefully by the end of the day, I'll be your boss." His smirk breaks into a full-on grin at this point, and works his was around the group shaking hands.

As he gets to Jonathan, he faulters slightly, then shakes away.

Josh13905, please make a Mojo+Skill roll for me.

Anyone else wish to make a roll/use a skill?

[SuperCracker]

"Well, at least the interview will give you enough time to have my corner office ready. Also, I demand one Taiwanese masseuse, a gold-plated office chair, and a stereo system with a Rush CD placed inside the tray. I am Michael Farrow the Third, and I am here to make you money." Fred said while squeezing the man's hand in the handshake tightly... no superstrength, though.

(One, brains + fighting to size him up.)

[roll0]
Luck Die: [roll1]

[whiskytangofoxt]

He seems to hold himself well, with a confidence bordering on... something supernatural. He could hold his own in a fight, most definately.

[Malfunctioned]

Arnold shakes Flint's hand vigorously and, after he passes, leans over to Broll.

"Mr. Broll, I believe this may be of use to you since you seem to be having the first interview." He handed him the briefcase.
"At the first sign of trouble press the second button on the handle. Under NO circumstances can you press the third. NO CIRCUMSTANCES. Remember. Second button yes! Third button no."

[SuperCracker]

After Fred determined Mr. Sky to be able to hold his own, he grinned just a little bit more. Fred instantly wanted to have a go at him. So, it's no surprise that he was only half-way paying attention to Arnold's instructions. "Second button. I got it. Yeah."

[Eurus]

Grace nearly swoons at Mr. Sky's voice, and coyly bats her eyelashes at him as she delicately shakes his hand. "Oh, thank you. I hope you can find a position for me."

[josh13905]

Remembering the explosion likely to take place Jonathan is immediately worried about the prospect of not pushing the third. They were gonna have problems but it was impossible to know how they would begin.

The handshake came and Jonathan blinked. With a grin and bear it expression he thought to himself:

This guy. His power levels, they're... they're over nine-thousand!

[Critical]

Cane yawns and gets to the radio trying to find something he'd like to listen to. After switching a few stations and finding Elton John's "Rocket Man" song playing, Fredderick is extremely pleased and relaxed, enjoying the song and humming to it.


Just saying that I'm still here and stuff. :smallbiggrin:

[whiskytangofoxt]

Jonathan, the handshake send a little shiver down your spine.

You see...

It's the man you were shaking hands with before, but now his face seems... stretched, contorted... scaled?
You can practically smell the ozone and feel the heat from him...
That explosion seems quite near...


Mr. Sky gives Grace a perfectly neutral look.

"We always have new opportunities for young women. Perhaps our internships are appropriate for you? We judge each candidate on their own merits in a group interview, and place them accordingly."

"Your group interview will begin shortly. I need to go and prepare the appropriate paperwork. Please, make yourself comfortable - I may be some time."

He leaves the room, and as he does so, flicks a switch on the wall.

The door locks, and two trapdoors swing out from the wall behind you. A stream of men and women in brightly coloured ceremonial dress come at you - all armed with ancient-looking, but still very dangerous weaponry.

Ladies and gents, roll your Moves dice, highest goes first!

[SuperCracker]

(Moves for Initiative!)
[roll0]
Not sure if initiative uses one, but Luck Die [roll1]

[Malfunctioned]

[roll0]
If luck die are used for this [roll1] If not then add the two.

"Mr Broll. First button, point the case towards me if you please."

[josh13905]

"Pretty big group for an interview..." Jonathan grips his deck of cards tightly.

For Future rolls, IC or OOC?
Moves:[roll0]
Luck Die:[roll1]
Total 12.

[Eurus]

Roll:
Moves: [roll0] + [roll1]

Grace gives up on her flirtations, and sulkily turns back to the wall just in time to see the trapdoors swing open. Oh, good. She got to punch something.

[SuperCracker]

(Oh, also. Picking Superstrength/toughness as my scene power. Let's use some brute force!)

[Thieves]

OOC: Ho boy, being out there makes ya miss thar combat!

IC:

"You, Django, have proved yourself to be a worthy warrior, and your head, as it steams, is one of great endurance towards the Majestic Cybernetic. We hope to the couch and the drapings prove well fitted towards the composition of your fleet," spake Beowulf, covered in flowing black armor and speaking to Django with an ethereal voice.

"Sir, I'm adamantine, I mean, I'm a... I'm honored," the lumberjack said, feeling his forehead sweat, and shook the hand of the man who spoke to him.

But lord Beowulf was a traitor! He's opened the shafts and now the Raiders of the Lost Ark were filling the chamber!

"The wizaard!... You sell your new acquaints', you sold your applicants, and yet we know your name, traitor, traitor!", exclaimed Django at the top of his lungs, and feeling the wings of the dragon flutter behind him, he stomp-kicked his suitcase, and with a dozen unnecessary sounds like screech-cling-td-td-tkah-scring!-k-k (some of which Django was imitating with his mouth as well), it transformed into a standard-issue firemen's axe, except this had OWNAGE written all over it.

"Traitor, traitor!" resounds, as the 400 lb. suit-clad body leaps into the air...

Moves 3: [roll0] + LD [roll1]
A cookie for the person who recognizes Both the lyrics I took the exclamations from.

[whiskytangofoxt]

Grace, your move first.

[Eurus]

With a dramatic hair-toss, Grace hops into the air, her body going horizontal while her legs spin like a deadly wheel of furious... er, kicking. One blow lands on a shoulder, and somehow manages to catapult the still-airborne Grace a good five feet into the air, where she does her best to break her fall with a guard's body.

[whiskytangofoxt]

The first cultist is bowled head-over-heels over one of the comfy chairs you had been until recently sitting on - he collides with the now-locked door solidly, but it shows no sign of moving.

You manage to surf onto the second cultist, but your feet connect with his ornate headress - he's stunned for a few seconds, but not out of the fight yet.

Jonathan?

[josh13905]

Jonathan brings his arms up and prepares to fight, closing with one of the men, and starts throwing punches, he wasn't superhuman when it came to strength, and had no superpowers in the realms of combat, other than using his sight to know how things would happen.

His punches were well-aimed but not as fast as some of the others.

[whiskytangofoxt]

They might not be superpowered, but Jonathan's unches still do the job.

The first connects with the cultist's stomach - the next a haymaker up under his chin. He folds to the floor out of the fight.

As he collapses, two more minions spring forth.

One wields a small black dagger, glinting wickedly sharp under the electric lights. He swings it in a slashing arc towards Jonathon, a mad glint in his eye.

The other springs through the air using a table like a springboard, a spear in both hands, looking to drive it into Django's sternum.

We'll say 1) a 10 to hit Jon, and 2) 8 to hit Django. (the leap helps!)
1[roll0]
2[roll1]

[whiskytangofoxt]

Roll Muscle to resist damage, guys.

[Thieves]

<Placeholder to later edit how Django sees what's happening>

[whiskytangofoxt]

As both cultist rush our intrepid K.I.C.K.ers, neither are successful.

Please, describe your awesomeness here.

[josh13905]

The grunt that swings at Jonathan smiles as he sees his strike on target, then his face is replaced with one of surprise as he sees Jonathan move impossibly fast to end up on his side.

[Thieves]

Gently gliding through the air alike a grand airship, Django turns around his axis; the moment his eyes glance at the ceiling, he thinks he sees it adorned with strange letters... HOW WOULD YOU-

Before he finishes reading the writing, he rolls around and, Just In The Nick Of Time, as the man flying at him shouts, with his sharp (?) hand outstretched, Just In The Nick Of Time, I say, Django lifts his axe to cut right through the man's arm, and headbutts him straight in the nose. Seeing the man fall down about three hundred feet to the ground, in the middle of New York skyscrapers, the still airborne, gory-axe wielding lumberjack shouts:
"Gods damn you, Superman! Down with the sickness, you sick bad-touch fashion criminal!"

Although that's what he shouted mainly in his head; when he comes down, there's a trampoline where his body is heading. If that's a trampoline (and is that thing flying there a squirrel? a fireball? Oh, that's a cheerleader!), then you gotta land on it in a perarticolur way, so you can use the momentarium to gain ulcereration for another jump, or whatever they said on TV! (-> dice roll)

(zoix~! I mean, I headbutt him if I can, Mr Nice GM Sir :)

[SuperCracker]

Broll let out a sigh, disappointed that his Gordon Gecko impersonation couldn't continue. "What a hostile work environment." He aimed the briefcase at Arnold, hitting the first button -- although that third button was constantly tempting him. Now, that tied up his hands, at the moment, so he couldn't draw his sword and start cutting up cultists. However, he still had his feet!

Broll's eyes started to glow bright blue, and a momentary aura surrounded him. He felt the power now! And so would this building! Almost nonchalantly, he lifted his right foot, then stomped it in the direction of the cultists. If successful, it would produce a ground-shaking shockwave, ripping up the floor, sending cultists sprawling, and causing the building to shudder.

(Since this is a "power stunt" I'll roll it as Mojo.)

[roll0] + Luck: [roll1]

[whiskytangofoxt]

As Django flew gracefully through the air towards the trampoline, those around him witnessed the 7-foot tall man tuble arse-over-tit through the office, finally landing face-first into one of the large tables. He manages to take the entire table with him, breaking his fall with nothing but his beard.

Thieves, drop 1 Luck points from your total.

As Broll slams his foot into the floor, a wave of concussive force travels along the floor, blowing the first mook clear off his feet and severely shaking the rest. Chairs bust and shake apart, tables collapse, and framed pictures fall from the walls. One lands on Django's prostrate form.

In other words, it's now much easier to hit them, and they'll lose something from their rolls too.

The huge amount of noise seems to have attracted some attention, finally - you hear some rumblings and shouting coming from outside the room.

Chances are, Fred can see several security guards and some very large men crossing the foyer towards one of the side doors. They don't look very happy. Would you like to join in from here?

[Critical]

OoC:
Sure thing. :smallwink:

"ROCKET MAAAAAN! BURNING ON THE F- WHAT THE F***?!" - that was Cane's reaction to his singing interrupted by the flow of rushing guards into the building. Fetching his rocket launcher with him, he walks out of the car, closes the door and casually walks up to the guards, hoping to find out on what floor is his team via various radio signals they usually send. If that wouldn't work, he'd come over and call out to them, rocket launcher ready and with a smirk on his face: "Hey fellas... What's going on over there?"


Uh, some kind of D&D-style readied action to blast 'em to bits if they try anything harmful to Cane, I guess. :smalltongue:

[whiskytangofoxt]

The men outside the door begin banging and crashing - maybe they're trying to burst through?

Arnold, your turn! I will assume the button-pushing went without a hitch... :smallbiggrin:

[Malfunctioned]

The brass and steel rifle, in the vaguest sense of the word, ejected from the side of the briefcase into Arnold's hands. He points it at one of the men.
"Lighten up."

[whiskytangofoxt]

Where the man now stood, there is naught but a charred statue - the Sun Gun is a nasty piece of work. It crumbles to the ground, leaving a rather humourous pile of dust.

So nasty, in fact, that those men standing close to the ray sprout blisters and burns even as the gun cools down. Even the wall behind the man is showing signs of extreme stress - the paint has blistered in an almost perfect circle, bar the imprint of the unfortunate caught in its path.

Frank?

[whiskytangofoxt]

The men standing by the door hear Frank's friendly call - when they turn, they are not expecting to be greeted by a man in metal trousers wielding a bazooka.

The first raises his gun to you, and screams

"Stop! Drop the... weapon and identify yourself!"

The break in his voice tells you he's pretty startled by your appearance, and the shake in his gun hand tells you he's pretty startled by your armament.

Several others have also turned away from the door leading to the interview room, and are similarly distressed to see you.

[whiskytangofoxt]

One of the security guards aiming at Frank gets a little too nervous, and squeezes off a shot. Several others follow suit.

Treated as one character, Moves 2 + Pistol skill, needs an 18 to hit (distance +fear, the great demotivator)

[roll0]


Frank, dodge for me?

After seeing the mess made by Broll's strength and Arnold's Sun Gun, the rest of the cultists back off from the Agents, fearful of what may happen.

However, the guards catch wind of the shooting outside, and choose this moment to burst through the door, guns blazing in no greatly accurate way.

[whiskytangofoxt]

Grace, back round to you?

[Critical]

Seeing the man shaking his gun, Cane smiles and lifts his rocket launcher, aiming it at the group. "No, you."

Which Frank you're talking about in which posts? xD I only got the part where the guys asked me for an identification.

Moves check or something to do that before the guy shoots?